


What Isn’t There

by Sohotthateveryonedied



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Amputation, Angst, Fluff and Angst, I’m happy with the way I spend my time, I’m supposed to be working on another fic, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Pain, Phantom pain, This is honestly the darkest thing I’ve ever written so eyyyy, but instead I’m chopping off character’s legs, flashbacks kind of, it gets real fluffy at the end, keith loses a leg in this, klance, the amputation part isn’t graphic or anything so don’t worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 12:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15774126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sohotthateveryonedied/pseuds/Sohotthateveryonedied
Summary: It’s okay,Keith thinks to himself.You’re okay.At least, as okay as a one-legged teenager could be.





	What Isn’t There

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t even know when this takes place tbh. It’s after Allura becomes a paladin but before the castle ship explodes and also Shiro is decidedly not Kuro is this because I say so, so who knows what’s going on. Certainly not me, the author. 
> 
> Anyways the only reason I wrote this is because I wanted to read a fic about Keith losing a leg ‘cause I think it’s an interesting concept, but sadly there weren’t many. So, per angst-writer fashion, I was like “screw it” and wrote one myself.
> 
> Honestly, I’m sorry for writing this in the first place ad shoving it down all your throats.

_Static._

_Crackling, tingling static._

_Phantom fingers blazing across skin, spreading sharp pins and needles with every touch of invisible claws. Cold metal slices its way through flesh, through muscle, through bone like it’s butter. Digging deeper, deeper, deeper, until—_

_CRACK!_

Keith jolts awake, a half-formed scream dying in his throat. He’s panting, shaking from the pain which hastily pulled him from sleep. Sharp, shocking electricity shoots up his right leg, and Keith sits up in a blind panic, searching for the source. He scrambles for his leg where it feels like prickling static is scouring his skin, all the way down to the bone.

Instead of skin, fingers meet empty sheets where his leg should be. 

Keith chokes down a gasp, clawing desperately for what isn’t there. His nails dig into the blankets, on the brink of panic at the sight of empty space that shouldn’t be empty. Nausea swirls in his gut. 

Somewhere along the way, his mind catches up. Keith lets his hand drop, realization flooding him. 

_Oh. That’s right._ A shudder runs through Keith. He locks a noise behind his jaw and squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to calm down. Little by little, his heartbeat slows from a quick staccato to a low thrum. He lets out a breath. 

There’s movement beside him, and Keith looks over to see that Lance is thankfully still fast asleep, hand outstretched toward where Keith had been sleeping. Keith watches his boyfriend’s chest rise and fall, and the crackling discomfort ebbs the slightest bit at the sight. 

_It’s okay,_ he thinks to himself. _You’re okay._

At least, as okay as a one-legged teenager could be. 

It’s been months since losing the leg, and the phantom pain has not lessened in the slightest. 

Keith already spoke to Shiro about it, seeking his brother out in the middle of the night a few days after the leg was gone. That night Keith had been startled awake by what felt like sparks of electricity rushing up his leg, searing through bones that weren’t there anymore. It terrified him, but Shiro provided an explanation for his turmoil. 

Phantom pain, Shiro told him. An unfortunate result of having a limb amputated. He experienced them himself from time to time and reassured Keith that the pain he felt was all in his head. It would go away eventually, just give it time. 

And Keith did. He gave it a lot of time. He spent night after night hissing in pain while sparks and needles pierced absent skin, waiting for the late night pain sessions to end, but they never did. 

Keith tried everything. He’d tried doses of all kinds of Coran-prescribed pain meds, but they did little aside from turning his tongue purple and making him see penguins everywhere. He even tried the mirror trick Pidge recommended—arranging a mirror between his legs so the reflection might trick his brain into thinking his leg was still there. And it worked, briefly. The relief was short-lived, though. Nothing made the static stop permanently. 

Since hearing the name of his affliction, Keith can’t help imagining an actual phantom whenever the familiar pain flares up. A ghost with barbed claws and steaming skin, caressing a limb which isn’t there but feels like it is. Spreading hurt until everything down to the nonexistent bone throbs. 

It makes Keith want to scratch off his skin, to dig in his fingers and find the source of the pain and make it _stop._ But there’s nothing there. Nothing to scratch, nothing to soothe, nothing but empty space and his own imagination. 

It was bad enough losing the leg. Sure, Hunk and Pidge crafted a brilliant prosthesis and Keith is almost back to full mobility, but honestly? Losing a leg sucks. It _really_ sucks. It sucks every time he glances down and does a double-take while his brain catches up with the reminder that part of him _isn’t there._ It sucks waking up in the middle of the night because that empty space where flesh and bone used to be feels like it’s being electrocuted by one of Haggar’s energy blasts. And it sucks that despite all he’s done to block it out, Keith still can’t forget the horrific memories of losing the leg in the first place. 

Blessedly, Keith can’t recall all of it—not the specifics, at least. Bits and pieces flicker in and out of his memory like a photo reel with missing slides. But he remembers enough. 

He doesn’t remember the events that caused the paladins to crash on that jungle planet, but he remembers being stranded there. He doesn’t remember the animal that attacked him, but he remembers the bite it left behind. He doesn’t remember the pain from the wound, but he remembers the infection. 

All in all, the five of them and Shiro spent about two weeks stuck on that godforsaken world. Two weeks spent waiting for Coran to find their signal and, in the meantime, doing whatever it took to survive. 

For Keith, that meant trying not to succumb to the illness that threatened to consume him. It hadn’t taken long for the infection to spread, and Keith just kept getting sicker and sicker every day. 

Through the fog of fever-induced delirium, Keith remembers Lance tending to him, seemingly never leaving his side. He would encourage Keith to drink water and distract him with stories of home while the others discussed Keith’s rapidly deteriorating condition. 

Keith knew he was getting worse; he wasn’t stupid. He was fully aware that if something wasn’t done soon, the infection would kill him. If he couldn’t tell by the coughs rattling in his chest or the weakness in his limbs, it was by the grim looks the others gave him every time he was lucid enough to notice. 

It was somewhere halfway through the second week when Keith caught bits of hushed conversation just loud enough for him to pick up. 

“...not getting any better...”

“...but he can’t lose his...”

“...must be some other way...” 

“...only option left...” 

Keith drifted in and out of consciousness after that, his head swimming too much to grip reality for long. He became aware of Lance kneeling by his head, hands on either side of Keith’s face and petting his hair back soothingly. His hands were cold against Keith’s heated skin. 

He must have faded out again for a second because when Keith came back to his body, there was now weight on his arms, legs, and torso; holding tight no matter how much he squirmed. When had that happened? Through blurred vision he saw Hunk holding down his left leg, Pidge and Shiro focusing on his injured right, and Allura sitting on his hips, holding his arms down and rendering him immobile. Keith didn’t know what was happening. He didn’t know why Hunk looked so guilty, or why Shiro held Keith’s knife in his hand. 

Somewhere in the back of Keith’s mind, he knew what was going to happen. Awareness tugged at him, trying to warn him, but it lay just out of reach. The fever had turned his brain into jelly. Still, his stomach clenched with dread as if it knew something he didn’t. 

What was happening? Why couldn’t he move? Why was Lance crying? Keith wanted to dry his tears, but he couldn’t lift his arms. 

Somewhere by his leg, Shiro kept apologizing over and over for something he was about to do, something he said would help but hurt. What was Shiro apologizing for? Nothing could ever make Keith mad at him. 

Keith struggled weakly, but he might as well have had the strength of a baby deer. He felt his lips move, asking what was going on, but he couldn’t tell if any sound actually slipped out. 

“It’s alright,” Lance murmured, petting back Keith’s bangs. “You’re alright. Just—just don’t look, okay?” _Don’t look at what?_ Keith wanted to ask. 

Then, without warning, searing agony struck like lightning, making Keith’s eyes fly open in shock. Keith choked on a cry, every muscle in his body tensing. Something sharp tore through flesh and muscle, digging deeper and deeper. Pain laced every nerve in his leg, stemming from a point on his thigh just above the bite wound. 

_Stop, stop, stop!_ he wanted to beg. And maybe he did. His back arched and he tried pushing away the hands on him, but he couldn’t throw them off. 

Screams tore up his throat so forcefully, Keith barely heard Lance’s voice above him, murmuring softly. His hands held Keith’s head firmly, keeping him from looking. “You’re okay, Keith.” He winced with every scream from Keith. “You’re...you’re going to be okay. Just keep looking at me, okay? Keep your eyes on me.” He rested his forehead against Keith’s. “I’m sorry, I know it hurts. Just hang on a little longer.” Then, almost like a prayer, “Please, please, _please_ pass out.” 

And Keith almost obeyed, but that was when a sickening crack echoed through the air, and the pain somehow intensified to the point where it was all he could think about. It hurt so bad Keith was sure he was dying. Agony scorched through his entire leg, radiating deep in his bones and even all the way up to his spine. 

Lance brushed the tears from his cheeks—Keith hadn’t even known he was sobbing until that point. Keith’s hands reached up blindly, trying to get to his leg, trying to make the pain stop, but Allura wouldn’t let him move. His nails dug so deep into her forearms he was sure they drew blood, but she didn’t lessen her grip. 

It wasn’t much longer when blissful darkness _finally_ clouded over Keith’s vision, and the distant hum of Shiro’s arm powering up faded away. Keith had never been more grateful to escape consciousness. 

Another jolt of static races up Keith’s leg now, pulling him from his thoughts. Hissing sharply through his teeth, Keith shoves the blanket off his lap and swings his legs over the side of the bed. His left foot hits the floor. His right doesn’t. 

Keith drags in a deep breath, trying to chase out the unease sizzling in his blood. Numb fingers drift down his thigh to the stump which promptly ends the limb, just above where his right knee used to be. The empty space aches as if he stuck it into an electrical socket. Keith slowly wraps his hand around where the scarred stump tapers off, tracing the ridges. The pressure lessens some of the ache, if only barely. 

It hadn’t been a graceful surgery by any means, having been done with nothing but a knife and—afterward—Shiro’s hand to cauterize the bleeding stump. Marred, ugly scars had been left behind, proof of what happened. Keith runs his fingertips over the scarred tissue, another shudder escaping him. 

The day in the healing pod hadn’t done anything other than heal over the wound—the damage was already done. Keith will never admit it but, before going in, a small part of him hoped that when he woke up, he’d see that the pod had grown his leg back. 

But disappointment hurts. Phantom pain hurts. Everything hurts. 

It’s not long before Keith feels a warm hand brush over his hip and stay there, rubbing slow circles into bare skin. Keith sighs a little and lets his muscles go lax. 

He turns, looking over his shoulder at Lance. His hair is mussed on one side where his face smushes into his pillow and his skin glows, still soft from the beauty products he’d used before they went to bed. Lance’s eyes are half-lidded, exhausted, yet manage to focus on Keith. “Babe?” he mumbles, punctuating it with a yawn. 

Keith’s hand leaves the stump and lays itself atop Lance’s, bringing it down to the bed where he laces their fingers together. The warmth feels nice on his clammy skin. “Did I wake you up?” 

Lance’s jaw clenches around another yawn he refuses to let go. “Felt like something was wrong.” His eyes flutter shut again and he nuzzles into the pillow. “You okay?” he asks without opening them. 

“Leg,” Keith explains quietly. “It’s nothing.” 

That gets Lance’s attention. His eyes crack open again and he sits up, tiredness all but forgotten. He lifts his other hand to rub the small of Keith’s back, and Keith leans into the touch. “Is it the stump again? Want me to go grab you some painkillers?” 

God, Keith doesn’t know what he did to deserve Lance’s never-ending sweetness. Whatever it was, he’s grateful. But now he shakes his head. “Not that kind of pain.” He swallows, ignoring the tingling throb of absent bones and tissue. At Lance’s questioning eyebrow raise, he says, “It’s...what’s _not there_ that hurts.” 

Lance looks down. “Oh, you mean...” He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t need to. 

“Yeah.” Keith’s fingers dig absently into his thigh. The new pain almost distracts him from the old pain. He doesn’t know if that’s an improvement or not. “Like I said, it’s nothing.” 

Lance shifts closer. He runs the pad of his thumb over Keith’s knuckles, frowning. “Will putting on the prosthetic help? Maybe try walking around the castle for a bit?” 

Keith smiles softly, but shakes his head. “It’s okay, really. Just need to take my mind off it.” As he says that, another jolt of static rushes up his leg, and he holds back a hiss. He moves down to the stump again, gripping it. “Go back to sleep,” he tells Lance. “I can handle this on my own.” 

Predictably, Lance doesn’t listen. Instead, he takes the hand not in Keith’s and wraps it around his shoulders, pulling his boyfriend down closer to him. “Come here.” Lance rearranges their positions so he’s lying back, Keith draped over him with his head on Lance’s chest. 

Lance moves his hand down Keith’s side until he reaches the spot where his leg ends, fingers ghosting just above it. “Can I...?” Keith nods against his sternum, and a moment later Lance’s palm is resting over the stump. Keith closes his eyes and sighs in relief as Lance begins to massage the scarred skin. 

“Better?” Lance asks. 

Much to Keith’s relief, the bone-deep static slowly ebbs, overpowered by the soothing warmth Lance’s hand brings. Fake pain is chased out by real comfort, smothering the fire and providing Keith with the first actual relief he’s had all night. 

Keith burrows his head closer against Lance’s neck, allowing his eyes to fall closed. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Better.” 

Drained, Keith focuses on the gentle hum of the chest beneath him, allowing it to lull him back to sleep. 

And, little by little, the phantom leaves.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, dudes. 
> 
>  [Feel free to mosey on down to my Tumblr!](http://sohotthateveryonedied.tumblr.com/)


End file.
